You won't want me when you discover what my brain is capable of doing.
You won't find me beautiful when my fear takes over and I'm curled on the floor.
You won't look me in the eye when my lungs gasp for the air my mind won't let them have.
You won't kiss me when the tears fall and my hands begin to shake.
You won't love the anxious burden that I so often become.
The shrinks will say I'm fortune telling and trying to read your mind.
But I know you will slowly despise me when you see what my thoughts can do.
I know this for a fact because I despise myself for having panic attacks too.

- p. winter